


Between the White Lines

by 021497J



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Inspired by Tokyo Drift, M/M, Racing, Rivalry, Street Racing, lots of side ships, underground racing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/021497J/pseuds/021497J
Summary: Once a reputable street racer in his hometown, Sicheng is banished from the scene in China. He seeks refugee in the streets of Seoul where he can race under an alias, Winwin. His impressive skills in the drivers seat gain him much more attention than he anticipated.Originally from the renowned streets of Japan, Yuta is the longstanding driver on top in Seoul. His racing crew, Irregulars, dominate the underground scene in the city. They remain untouchable to authorities purely due to the fact that they can't physically catch them.What happens when Winwin arrives at the starting line and begins to stir everything up. His feisty personality and wicked driving skills unsettle Yuta in more ways than one.





	1. Chapter 1

The moment Sicheng steps into his new apartment, a dispirited sigh escapes his lips. This place is a piece of shit. His sudden move left him with only a small amount of money, he wasn’t able to withdraw too much before he left. There is no way he’s going to use his debit card, it’s too risky. So here he is left with only a handful of bills in his pocket and a grimy studio apartment. It’s better than the alternative he faced in China, Seoul offers him vitality. Here he has his warm flesh and beating heart, there that wouldn’t be the case.

 

Sicheng drops his duffle bag against the closed front door. The studio is empty with the exception of a bare mattress the previous tenant was kind enough to leave. He trudges over to the dingy mattress in the corner of the space. The cushion creaks when he falls onto it, but it’s not too bad. His eyelids begin to flutter closed, he’s exhausted from the past 48 hours. Just as he dozes off, a raspy voice sounds in the room. His eyes snap open, the voice seeming to come from inside his studio. Another voice joins the first and Sicheng realizes the walls are paper thin, how fitting. His neighbors talk in rapid yells that Sicheng can’t understand. His Korean is not the best, his knowledge coming from a few classes and his friend Renjun.

 

The voices continue their argument, and Sicheng about pounds at the wall to shut them up. His fist pauses in front of the plaster, it would probably cause more yelling than anything. He lets out a dejected sigh before standing to his feet. He peeks inside the bathroom a few steps to his left, the white tile stained with limescale. The metal faucets are cloudy and have their fair share of burnt orange rust. Sicheng turns the shower on, the head coughs out water before the steady stream flows out.

 

His shower is lukewarm and leaves him in worse of a mood than before. Sicheng towels off with the single towel he owns, and it is about a size too small. He dresses in comfortable clothes and attempts to fall asleep. It’s probably around nine at night, he wouldn’t know since he left his phone in China. Although he’s physically and emotionally exhausted, Sicheng can’t fall asleep. His mind running through what to do next, how is he going to survive. He found his apartment on chance, in its grungy state he wouldn’t say it was luck.

 

Sicheng should be thinking about getting a job and paying rent, but his mind is on one thing. His hands ache to grip the steering wheel, to feel the rumble of an engine. He wants to race. He needs to race, it’s in his blood. It’s ridiculous, Sicheng’s intense obsession over the thing that almost got him killed. The thing that could _still_ get him killed, but he can’t help it. The high he gets from being behind the wheel is what he lives for, especially now that he is without his family. What’s the point of leaving his family and friends if he can’t race?

 

The sole reason he isn’t on the streets right now is that he doesn’t have a car. His precious baby was destroyed, although he wouldn’t have been able to bring his baby to Seoul anyways. His worries turn from how am I going to survive to how am I going to race. His desire for a job no longer based on his need to eat but his need to drive.

 

Sicheng’s stomach interrupts his thoughts with a grumble that sounds in the room. A sharp pain twisting in his stomach accompanies the noise. He sits up, his mouth watering at the thought of food. He doesn’t remember the last time he ate…maybe before he fled China. His mothers cooking, or maybe it was at the airport. Everything is beginning to blend together, he doesn’t know when the day turned new in the past hours.

 

Too hungry to sleep, Sicheng slips on his sneakers. He grabs a couple of bills, only allowing himself to take a small amount. He locks the door on his way out, not that he has anything worth stealing though. Sicheng knows he can’t stray far from his apartment, he isn’t familiar enough with the area. His hunger dazed and sleep deprived mind would definitely get him lost.

 

Sicheng's feet take him to his left, there is light in the distance as opposed to the darkness to his right. He passes by darkened shop fronts, his feet begin to slow to a defeated pace. The light was only coming from streetlamps, his stomach gives a pathetic growl as he trudges forward. Just when he thought hope was lost, a small store front with stickers advertising different types of food appears. A neon sign flickers the message of open. Sicheng scrambles to open the door as if he’s being pulled inside by a force.

 

The interior is worn and comfortable. The history of the restaurant evident in the signs plastered on the walls, the ends curling up and graphics fading. There are only a couple customers in the tiny area, a couple of middle-aged men sit in a corner with steaming bowls in front of them. Sicheng finally becomes aware of the time, 10:30 at night. He couldn’t guess how long he’s spent on the streets or in his apartment, the last time he checked the time it was two in the afternoon.

 

Sicheng peers at the menu printed in red letters hanging above the front counter. The prices are relatively low and Sicheng makes a note to remember this place, especially if the food is good. An older woman appears in front of the counter, her hair greying and apron stained. She offers a warm smile to Sicheng, her eyes sparkling.

 

“What can I get you?” Her voice is raspy yet soothing, it reminds him a little of his mother.

 

“Uh, the noodle bowl.” There are only four things on the menu, a very vague description under each. Sicheng is too hungry to be upset about the lack of detail, he just wants food.

 

Taking the handful of crumpled bills out of his pocket, Sicheng begins to count out the correct amount. The price leaves only a single bill, his grip lingers on the cash. His stomach gives another twist and Sicheng decides this is definitely a worthy investment. He looks up at the woman outstretching the handful towards her, but she doesn’t take it. Instead her hands clasp around his fist, she gently pushes his hand towards his chest.

 

“It’s on the house.” She says softly.

 

“No, I couldn’t.”

 

“It’s no trouble.” She shakes her head gently. “You remind me of my son.”

 

Sicheng slowly lowers the handful, he does need to money. However prideful he is, he can’t refuse the extra money in his situation. He still feels guilty, he was always taught never to take any favors he couldn’t repay. This is one favor he has no clue how to repay. He has nothing of value, no skills other than driving or mechanics. The twisting pain of hunger overshadows the guilt settling in his stomach, but his mind will replay this in his thoughts for weeks. The feeling of an unpaid debt was never a good one where he came from. It always meant trouble.

 

The sound of clanking pans and the scrape of metal on metal can be heard coming from the kitchen. Sicheng takes a seat at the nearest table, a few stitches in the fabric of the chair have unraveled. The corners of the table are worn to dull edges. The two other customers quietly gather their belongings and exit the restaurant. Sicheng is left by himself in the front of the store, the room silent with the exception of the clamor sounding from the kitchen.

 

His eyelids begin to flutter closed, his chin resting on the heel of his palm. Sicheng can hear soft mumbling from the back room, a deep voice joining the woman’s. His brain is too exhausted to even attempt to catch the conversation. An aggravated huff is heard before the stomp of footfall makes its way towards him. Sicheng’s eyes snap open when a bowl is not so gently slammed down in front of him.

 

“Enjoy your meal.” The voice is gruff and dripping with annoyance. Sicheng avoids their eyes, his head bowing slightly. The boy in front of him looks to be around his age, although Sicheng doesn’t get a good look before he spins on his heel. A final slam of a door signals the boy's exit, the entire restaurant silent.

 

Sicheng sits frozen in the silence for a couple moments, he’s not sure what exactly he’s waiting for. The only sound breaking the dead silence is the hum of the air conditioner. The warm aroma of the bowl in front of him drags him from his reverie. The noodles swim in a tan broth, the top sprinkled with chopped vegetables. Sicheng still has no clue what the ingredients are, but at this point he couldn’t care less.

 

The moment his bite enters his mouth he hums a cry of happiness. This has to be the best thing he’s ever tasted. The chewy noodles perfectly cooked and the heated broth warms his throat on the way down. He immediately shoves another bite into his mouth, the first still there. The bowl is empty in a matter of minutes, his full stomach pushing at his waistband.

 

Sicheng takes a moment to digest the food sitting in his belly. He glances up from the baby blue porcelain bowl, his eyes connect with the owners. She stands at the counter wiping the top with a rag. She gives him a soft smile as he leans against the back rest of his chair.

 

“You sure were hungry.” Her voice breaks the silence. Sicheng dips his head at her words, his cheeks beginning to heat.

 

“Yes, thank you again.” Sicheng can’t meet her eyes, that unsettling feeling creeping back. “Is there any way I can pay you back?”

 

“Hm, I'm sure I could think of a way.” Her hand pauses before she continues. “Next time you come back, I’ll be sure to put you to work.”

 

“Thank you.” Sicheng whispers, there’s a beat of silence before he continues. “Have a good night.” Sicheng stands to his feet, his head bowing slightly to the woman.

 

“You too.” She responds as Sicheng makes for the exit.

 

His walk home has a new feel, his full stomach uplifting his mood. The streets are no longer dark and dreary, but cool and serene. It almost reminds him of home…a little. The narrow streets and cracked pavement feeling like home, only the smells and signs are different. The lobby of his apartment, more of an admin corner than a lobby, is empty. His apartment is on the first floor right around the corner from the entrance.

 

Sicheng has to wiggle the key a few times before the lock smoothly clicks open. He slips his shoes off as he shuffles to his mattress. He flops down onto the cushion, the springs giving a groan. He is so tired he can’t be bothered by the lack of bedding. The bare mattress offers more than enough comfort for his eyes to begin fluttering the moment he hits the cushion.

 

The events from the past 48 hours begin to fade as his mind starts to slip into unconsciousness. Those worries that plagued him moments before no longer screaming at him. Sleep begins to fog his mind and Sicheng welcomes the force. He wants to escape reality, to be able to meet his friends and family again. He hopes that his mother will appear in his dreams. He hopes he’ll be able to tell her how much he loves her; how sorry he is that he left. For once, Sicheng doesn’t want to dream about racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii everyone!! thank you for making it through. this is a pretty uneventful chapter and the next couple might be as well, this is turning into a much bigger story than I originally planned. I have a johnjae au on my twitter atm which is my main focus!! I also have a couple things on my twitter under my pinned that might help with world building, and I can post more if anyone is interested in that type of stuff!!  
> \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/021497J?lang=en) \- [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/021497J) \- [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0npQC1lqYoD4aD7aSb9n20) -


	2. Chapter 2

The sun is beaming through his one window when Sicheng wakes, still clueless to the exact time. His shoulder is pinched, a pain shooting through his back when he moves to sit. The lack of pillow causing him to sleep with his head slumped into his shoulder, he decides the missing bedding is something he needs to change promptly. He doesn’t think he will be able to sleep as soundly tonight, the bone weakening exhaustion has left him.

 

Sicheng goes to the bathroom to freshen up. He splashes his face with water and brushes his teeth, glad he remembered to bring toiletries with him. Sicheng digs through his bag for a clean shirt counting out five unworn ones, he makes a note to ask around for a cheap laundromat. He slips on the same jeans he had worn for the previous days and thumbs a sparing amount of cash into his back pocket.

 

By the time Sicheng reaches the front door, he realizes he has no clue where he is going. His brief outing last night was cloaked in darkness, most of the stores closed and locked up. Out of habit, he pats at his pockets for his phone, the device holding all the knowledge he needs. His hands freeze when he recalls the whereabouts of his phone, in China with the rest of his things.

 

Sicheng lets a defeated sigh escape his lips as he pushes open the front door. The sun beams onto the pavement, the warmth in the air eased by the spring breeze. The streets are strikingly similar to the peek he got hours ago, barren and desolate. As Sicheng walks the same path from last night, he finds a number of the storefronts hadn’t just been closed for the night but were left empty with cobwebs forming in corners. The shops that were open ranged from thrift stores to bookstores to billiard halls.

 

The restaurant he visited last night appears, the details visible in the sunlight. The front is a textured cream color, the wall dirtied with grime near the bottom. The windows have residue that clouds certain areas, a sign flipped to ‘open’ is hanging in the center of the glass door. Bolded red text covers a window pane, the advertisements reading of delicious food and cheap prices.

 

Through the window Sicheng spots a boy around his age wiping down a table, his movements slow and repetitive. The boy’s light brown hair is messy, and his t-shirt faded and worn. Sicheng watches him for a beat weighing his options, ask the boy for directions or spend all day lost. He decides to ask him, it’s not like he could ruin Sicheng’s day any more.

 

A bell dinging upon Sicheng’s entrance has the boy’s gaze snapping to him. Sicheng offers a curtesy nod, the boy vaguely familiar, probably the same one from last night. He receives a mumbled welcome in return, the boy breaking their stare to continue his cleaning. The space is empty besides the two of them, the chairs all neatly tucked into their tables. Sicheng toes closer to the boy, his question on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Hello,” Sicheng says.

 

“Hey,” The boy continues before Sicheng can ask for directions. “You were here last night, right?”

 

“Yes,” Sicheng nods his head. The boy straightens to face him, the rag left on the table.

 

“I, uh, I'm sorry if I came off a little rude.” He offers an apologetic smile that tilts at his lips. “I was kind of upset.”

 

“It’s okay.” Again, before he can ask his question, a voice speaks. This time it comes from behind the boy, the same woman from last night enters from a swinging door. Her hair is in a neat bun that rests low on her head, and a stained apron hangs around her neck.

 

“Oh, good you’re here. I have some work for you.” She snaps her gaze to the boy before she continues. “You too. Come on.” She gestures them to follow with a nod of her head.

 

Sicheng stays behind both of them, careful not to touch anything as he walks through the swinging door. The space opens to a kitchen, the appliances cloudy and the counters with chipped lacquer. The tile under his shoes is no longer shiny and the grout is darkened. A prep area has clear containers of chopped vegetables along with a wooden cutting board dirtied with knife slices. The woman leads the two boys to the back of the kitchen, a bucket sink stacked with various dishes appears.

 

“Since someone wanted to skip out on work last night,” She gives a pointed look to the boy standing next to Sicheng. “I had no one to wash the dishes. With two of you, you can get it done fast. Once you finish, show him around and how everything works.” She speaks the last part to the boy. He offers a soft nod, his eyes downcast, before she leaves them alone.

 

The boy steps forward once the sound of the door swinging stops echoing in the room. He slips on a pair of teal rubber gloves holding out a yellow pair for Sicheng. They work in silence, the spray of the water filling the room. It only takes a few moments until Sicheng’s shirt is already soaked at his stomach, the warm water drenching the material. He bites at his tongue to keep from complaining, another shirt dirtied too soon.

 

“I'm Jaehyun.” The boy’s voice causes him to jump, not having expected the words.

 

“I'm...” He pauses, his mind debating whether or not to reveal his name. “Sicheng.” For some reason the word tumbles out, his lips loosened by the boy’s presence, but no pang of regret follows.

 

Jaehyun nods his head resuming his cleaning, the sharp stream of water speckling at his shirt. Sicheng scrubs at a layer of…something caked onto a bowl, the patch letting loose after a good push. They work together quietly, Sicheng soaping the bowls and plates before handing them to Jaehyun. The stacks filling the deep sink steadily lower as they work.

 

“I want to be a violinist.” His words surprise Sicheng, he hadn’t expected him to reveal any personal information. “My mom just thinks I'm trying to make my hobby into a career, that I should be here instead.” Jaehyun doesn’t spare him a glance with his words, instead spraying at a bowl.

 

“If you truly love it, you’ll make it. Where there is will there is a way.” Sicheng grimaces, his words falling flat even to his own ears.

 

“I guess,” Jaehyun trails off, his shoulders shrugging.

 

“When I was younger…I kind of wanted to be a dancer.” Sicheng doesn’t know why he shares the detail, maybe to compensate for his lackluster words of encouragement moments before.

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“I found something I loved more.” Sicheng remembers the passion he had for dance, a portion of it will always be with him, but the moment he got behind the wheel everything fell into place.

 

At the age of fifteen, he started sneaking out to watch street races. He was sixteen when he started driving, well below the legal age. Gradually his dance practices started to space out as he got caught up in the world of street racing. The rumble of an engine was too intoxicating, the feeling of the laws of motion in effect causing a rush all too consuming. He found a second family on the streets, brothers that he had always longed for. His dance shifted to the back burner as his love for racing took priority.

 

“Are you good at it?” Jaehyun’s words snap him out of his reverie. He’s not sure what he’s referring to, the dance or racing, but he can answer both the same.

 

“Very,” Sicheng pauses before he continues. “Are you good?”

 

“Very,” Jaehyun responds the same as him. “I missed my break to be a prodigy because I never showed anyone. It’s a bit harder to make it now. I get really nervous in front of crowds and the audition panel that I just…fuck it up.” The last words are whispered, but still audible to Sicheng.

 

“I know it’s a little cheesy but…practice like you’re the worst and play like you’re the best.” Sicheng hands him the last dish before continuing. “It worked for me.”

 

Jaehyun doesn’t respond, instead slowly nodding his head. Sicheng removes his rubber gloves and shakes some of the water out of the bottom of his shirt. The wet spot has gone cold and the skin at his lower stomach is turning numb. Jaehyun follows in removing his gloves grabbing the two to hang them from a hook at the wall.

 

The next couple hours pass, Sicheng being guided by Jaehyun in his routine. Lunch brings in a crowd of people, tables filled and bowls being shoved into Sicheng’s hands for customers. He grasps the basics easy enough, he’s never worked a job like this or a proper job in general. His money was always made from races, he didn’t need actual employment. The change is…nice and welcomed for being both a time filler and a source of income.

 

By the time the last of the rush is leaving through the doors, Sicheng’s stomach is grumbling and feet aching. The time already well past lunch and he just wants to sit down. Jaehyun disappears from wiping at the table beside him, Sicheng’s own cleaning slows as he watches the boy walk into the kitchen. Jaehyun reappears after a couple minutes, two steaming bowls in hand.

 

“Your stomach has been growling for the past hour.” Jaehyun sets the bowls down at a dry table, the contents of each different. Sicheng sits in a vacant chair across from Jaehyun waiting for the boy to indicate which is his.

 

“Which do you want?” Jaehyun asks. The same entrée he ate last night appears to be in one bowl while the other contains a rice mixture that Sicheng couldn’t name. His gaze shifts between both, his stomach wanting both. Jaehyun leaves to grab chopsticks for the two. Sicheng’s hands hesitate on grabbing one, he wants to taste both.

 

“Are you not going to pick?” Jaehyun returns handing him a set of chopsticks. Sicheng opens his mouth to respond when his stomach grumbles cutting him off. Jaehyun lets a laugh breath through his nose. “You can have some of mine if you’re still hungry.” Sicheng casts his eyes down, his hands grabbing for the rice bowl.

 

“Thank you,” Sicheng mumbles before shoving a bite into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering shut at the taste.

 

Jaehyun talks to fill the silence, Sicheng too busy shoveling food into his mouth. Although his talk started with questions about Sicheng, after the mumbled responses and rice pieces flying, he quickly switched to talking about himself. Sicheng learns that they are the same age, and that’s about where their commonality ends. Jaehyun a subdued musician while Sicheng a hardened driver, although their temperate nature is shared. The boy’s presence is already beginning to feel comfortable, the budding friendship easing some of Sicheng’s nerves while sprouting a few new ones at the same time.

 

The sun has set, and the streets returned to the familiar darkness by the time the restaurant closes. The clock on the wall shows half past nine, a drop of dread trickles down his back at the time. Stores will be closing soon and Sicheng _needs_ to at least grab a few things. He finds himself back at the bucket sink with Jaehyun, his hands rushing the boy along. He receives a few questioning glances, but Jaehyun ultimately follows along with the pace. Once they finish, dishes cleaned and stacked, Sicheng turns to Jaehyun.

 

“Where is the closest store? I just moved in and I have…nothing.” Sicheng palms at his back pocket for his bills, the few papers still there.

 

“Uh,” Jaehyun glances at the time. “The closest one is closed but there’s a good one not too far that’s open all night. I can take you.” Jaehyun offers a smile, his hands shoved into his back pockets.

 

Before they can leave, Jaehyun’s mother calls for them. She rummages around at the counter before walking to Sicheng. She grabs his hand depositing a handful of cash.

 

“No, I can’t. I was paying you back.” Sicheng stretches the money-filled hand out towards her, the papers weighing heavy in his hand.

 

“You repaid your debt and more. Now let me pay you for your extra work.” She shakes her head crossing her arms in refusal. Sicheng lets his hand hang in the air for a moment more before slowly pocketing the money.

 

“…Thank you” He whispers. As Jaehyun is opening the door before him, she calls out again.

 

“Come back tomorrow, your shift starts at six in the morning.” She holds his eyes for a moment before turning to exit through a hallway at the back of the restaurant.

 

“Come on,” Jaehyun says as he walks through the door.

 

They walk through the streets together, Jaehyun rambling on about the basics of violin and random tib bits about people in the city. As promised, the store is a bit of a walk, but still open once they arrive. Jaehyun strolls along side Sicheng as he drops items into his cart. He grabs the bare necessities: sheets, a limp pillow, body soap, the cheapest food available, and a plastic alarm clock. The clock is decorated with cartoons and pink characters, clearly meant for children, but he doesn’t have money for the nicer ones.

 

Sicheng’s face burns as he drops in some items and skips others. Jaehyun notices, although he’s kind enough not to single anything out. Instead he continues to ramble on about things Sicheng can’t make sense of, the words turning to more unfamiliar language, but they both know that his chatter is merely to fill the silence.

 

Luckily, Sicheng’s hesitant hands lead him to a total that spares him a few bills. Jaehyun insists on carrying a bag even though they are few and easily carried by Sicheng himself. When they arrive back at the restaurant, Jaehyun hands him the bag. They part with a smile and a ‘see you tomorrow’ before Sicheng returns to his tiny apartment. The additions add a hint of life to the place, although the space is still cold and foreign. Once he’s freshly showered, Sicheng crawls into the newly sheeted bed. With his alarm set and head cushioned, Sicheng lets his eyelids flutter shut, his mind drifting off into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh sorry this took so long to get finished!! I think i can confirm now that updates may be slow :)) but thank you for reading and waiting patiently!!!  
> \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/021497J?lang=en) \- [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/021497J) \- [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0npQC1lqYoD4aD7aSb9n20) -


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for any grammar errors!!

The next couple weeks pass in a blur, nothing more than work and sleep. It isn’t as if Sicheng has much else to do anyways. The weekends come and go with much less adrenaline than the previous years. There are no loud cars or racing, just work and sleep. It’s odd, not racing in the early morning hours of a Saturday or Sunday, but Sicheng welcomes the change after the first night’s sleep. The change represents safety, at least for the moment. Change is good, but the devil on Sicheng’s shoulder is getting louder.

 

The temperature is starting to get hotter, the days longer. The burn in the air only brings one thought to Sicheng’s mind, empty summer days with nothing to do but drive. The nice wad of cash stowed away has been tempting him, an opportunity to turn his dreams into reality once more. Sicheng has done the math dozens of times. Late at night with his mind restless, the numbers just seem to count themselves. But the nightmares always return, his desire to execute the plan crumbling. The eyes that watch but are never seen haunt him, screams ringing in his ears loud enough to wake him. At what point does the burn in your heart overtake the fear?

 

Sicheng isn’t weak, but his outlet for all his emotions has been turned into a game of Russian roulette. He prides himself on his measured recklessness, the perfect dose to balance him on that thin line. The thing that stops him is the source of those screaming voices: his mother, his father, his sister, and his friends. The best way to hurt someone is to hurt the ones they love. That is where Sicheng’s one weakness lies, with the people he holds close to his heart.

 

His walk to the restaurant is fast with his quick steps, but they slow once he reaches the front. A smaller dark-haired boy is wiping at tables, his head nodding along with the tunes playing through his earbuds. Confused, Sicheng approaches his turned back. The restaurant is closed, Jaehyun the only one supposed to be here. Sicheng clears his throat attempting to catch the boy’s attention. He realizes how pointless his action is once he closes in on the boy, music blaring from his earbuds blocking any outside sound. Not thinking much about it, Sicheng taps at his shoulder. The boy jumps, the table in front of him pushed forward with a loud scrap.

 

“You scared the shit out of me!” The boy stares wide-eyed at Sicheng, a hand clutching at his chest. He takes a moment, his eyes fluttering shut, to catch his breath.

 

“Sorry.” Sicheng mumbles his apology.

 

“We aren’t open yet.” The boy shakes his head, his hands moving to return his earbuds.

 

“I work here,” Sicheng says before he has a chance to pop them back in place.

 

“Oh…oh! You’re, uh—”

 

“Sicheng.” He offers the name upon the beginning of his mumbles.

 

“Yes, Jaehyun told me about you.” The boy straightens, a smile lighting at his features. “I'm his brother, Mark.” The relation comes as a surprise to Sicheng, Jaehyun never mentioned a brother. If he remembers correctly, Jaehyun even talked about growing up _without_ a sibling.

 

“Jaehyun is at an audition a couple hours away, so I'm here to help!” Mark gives him a bright smile, his hands propping at his hips. Sicheng gives him a once over, maybe to assess his credibility. However, he is in no place of authority to decide whether or not to trust this boy. He seems legit enough, and his worries are eased when Mrs. Jeong walks through the kitchen door. She pauses upon seeing them standing still, the look she sends them is enough to get both boys working.

 

He finds that Mark loves to ramble just as much if not more than Jaehyun. He’s thankful though, the exposure has him more comfortable with the language. Mark takes it upon himself once he learns of the exact level of Sicheng’s Korean to be his mentor, as he called himself. Which means that Sicheng’s pronunciation and grammar is corrected regularly, but Mark always does it with a smile. Sicheng doesn’t feel patronized by the corrections, instead grateful.

 

The day comes to an end, Sicheng enjoyed the boy’s company. While they are mopping the floors, Jaehyun comes through the back door. A loud thud accompanies him, Mark visibly flinching at the sound. Through the hallway, they see Jaehyun storm up the stairs into their apartment. Sicheng had learned that they lived in the space above the restaurant. Another loud slam signals his exit, a ringing silence left behind.

 

“He’ll—” Mark’s words are cut off by a loud pound from upstairs, the boy instinctively jumping closer to Sicheng. “He’ll be okay. The audition must’ve gone bad…he just needs time.” Mark’s exuberant personality seems to collapse, his shoulders hunching inwards.

 

They continue on in silence, the air tense. Sicheng momentarily debates going to comfort Jaehyun, but he decides against it. He doesn’t have the words to comfort him. Besides, Jaehyun doesn’t seem to be in the state of wanting comfort, but rather a source to project his anger. Sicheng knows well enough to not attempt to comfort someone who doesn’t want it.

 

 

\--

 

 

That night Sicheng comes to a decision to find a car. He’ll be careful. He can be careful. He needs to re-brand himself. His dark roots are starting to show through his blonde hair. He has neither the money or desire to continue with dye jobs to keep it blonde. Besides, how easily spotted is he with his blonde hair, practically shouting ‘here I am!’ when he’s attempting to hide. Sicheng sets aside a couple bills for a box of dark brown hair dye, a color he’s never tried before. There are dozens of pictures of him with black hair, from infancy to early adolescences. The color poses a risk just like the blonde still clinging to his strands.

 

If he wants to race, he has to reinvent himself. Change the style he prefers of everything from his car to his hair. Stepping back behind the wheel is already a risk, one that he is willing to take, but he has to level the risk in other ways. He will change his driving style a bit, the details of his car, the name he goes by, and his appearance. He can blend in. He doesn’t need to be the best, although his first instinct is never to hold back. Sicheng can blend in. He _has_ to blend in.

 

 

\--

 

 

The sun beats down on Sicheng’s back, a trickle of sweat already wetting the curve of his spine, as he reaches the third junkyard. This location had required three bus routes and a couple miles of walking—well, Sicheng may have gotten lost—but he made it. A cloud passes by overhead, the burn from the sun cooling. A tall picket fence lines the perimeter of the lot. Sicheng attempts to peek through cracks to gauge the worth of even entering. He is already down a chunk of change, and he’d rather not waste anymore if the lot doesn’t have a hint of what he wants. Through the wood slots, Sicheng can spot…junk: scrap metal, torn apart cars, and cracked glass. His shoulders begin to slump as he moves to another crack.

 

The cloud passes by, the sun returning. Something catches Sicheng’s eye, a gleam coming from behind rusty and dingy piles of metal. Sicheng lifts himself to his tippy toes to peek over the pile of scrap. His breath catches in his throat when he recognizes the model, a Skyline. Sicheng presses his face close to the wood attempting to confirm his thoughts. There it is, a Nissan Skyline. The bumper is hanging off and the paint is chipped, but he can work with that. Within his sight, Sicheng can see the back tire is slashed, the car standing uneven. This is worth it. This is more than worth it.

 

Sicheng gives one last scan of the car, attempting to commit the location to memory, before he starts for the entrance. Once he pays the entry fee, Sicheng goes straight to the left. His search takes a couple minutes, the lot not that large. His vision was right. It’s a Skyline. Sicheng can’t remember the last time he felt this jolt of excitement. His feet take quick steps, his shoulders giving a little shake as he approaches the car. The car is in rough shape, but it’s repairable. Sicheng can make this work. For a Skyline, Sicheng can make anything work. He runs his hands along the hood of the car bringing back a layer of grease and grim. The dirtied hands don’t dim his spirits though, he found a car. Sicheng checks the interior, the cushions slashed and the passenger seat missing. All these are problems he can fix or deal with. He goes to the hood again. The hood pops open with a loud whine of metal on metal. What greets him has Sicheng's heart falling from his chest, his smile slipping from his lips. The engine is gone, the space void of the essential life force of the car.

 

“No,” Sicheng stares at the empty space, his heart clenching in his chest. He runs a fingertip along the outer edge of the hood before shutting it. He resists the temptation to reopen the hood and confirm the reality.

 

Sicheng turns his back on the car. What a quick downfall. He stands in the blaze of the sun for a couple minutes letting himself heat. With a gust of wind, Sicheng begins to move. There has to be something else here. If there is a Skyline, surely there has to be _something_ else. With that repeating in his mind, Sicheng sets off. The encouraging motto begins to slow as torn up and beaten down cars pass one after the other. Either the car is missing doors, missing an interior, or just a shitty car. Sicheng throws his shoulders back, his last shred of hope being thrown into the final row of cars. He just knows something will be here, it has to be.

 

A couple steps into the final row, and Sicheng spots something. The black exterior is matted from its shine and holds scraps across the length, but it’s a model he recognizes. The model of Mazda is the perfect car to customize, also one he’s driven a couple times himself. He approaches hesitantly, scared of being deceived once more. He rounds the front of the car, the signature headlights slotted down. Sicheng feels that jolt hit his toes. How could he be so lucky? The thought calms him, there’s one thing he has to check.

 

Sicheng lets out an exhale as he places his hands at the heated metal of the hood. He lets a moment tick by, a light breeze rejuvenating him briefly. Sicheng’s breath is in his throat as he opens the hood. There it is; it’s actually there. The breath that was caught in his throat is let out in a shaky gasp. Although it’s the stock engine, it’s better than nothing. Sicheng takes a minute to let his eyes drink in the sight of the hunk of metal before turning to the rest of the car. The state of the car is average, obviously it wasn’t modified for racing purposes before. The exterior is beat up and blemished, but the interior—although most of it will go—just needs a good cleaning.

 

The most important thing now is whether or not it runs. He has confidence he could fix it, but it would throw a hitch into his timeline. Sicheng opens the car door, the hinge giving with a creak. The keys are dangling from the rear view mirror, and Sicheng grabs them. Settling into the seat, Sicheng pushes the key in. He turns the key, but the engine doesn’t catch. He pauses to breathe in deep and send a prayer to whoever will listen. He tries the key once more. The engine turns a couple times—a knot forming in his stomach—until it catches. The engine rumbles to life, although not nearly the satisfying growl he’s used to. Sicheng lets out a shout, his hand clutching at his chest.

 

_Finally!_

Sicheng sits in the car until heat begins to grip at his throat, the air conditioner not running. Although he has his car, a Mazda RX-7 to be exact, it is far from race ready. Cautiously, Sicheng puts the car in drive. Clanking metal and shifting gears grate at his ears, he’s going to have to look at that soon. Sicheng slowly drives the car to the gate. It’s a little sluggish and doesn’t give the satisfying hum that a modified version would, but he has a car. He parts with a nod from the owner as he prepares to navigate himself back home. His luck doesn’t seem to have run out yet as his drive is fairly easy, the streets not clogged and his directions remembered correctly.

 

His high lasts the night as he spends hours too long into the darkness inspecting his car. Sicheng parked his car in a lot nearby. Luckily, he lives far enough from downtown that parking isn’t much of a pain. He notes changes that need to be made and begins to clean at the interior. Nothing can bring him down; Sicheng found a car.

 

He has a car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! sorry this took forever. Things are starting to pick up and I'm excited for the next couple chapters. Check out some of my other works on both ao3 and my twitter!!  
> \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/021497J?lang=en) \- [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/021497J) \- [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0npQC1lqYoD4aD7aSb9n20) -


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